The Luncheon

I caught sight of her at the play and in answer to her beckoning I went over during the interval and sat down beside her. It was long since I had last seen her and if someone had not. mentioned her name I hardly think I would have recognised her. She addressed, me brightly. "Well, it's many years since we first met. How time does fly! We're none of us getting any younger. Do you remember the first time I saw you? You asked me to luncheon." Did I remember? It was twenty years ago and I was living in Paris. I had a tiny apartment in the Latin Quarter overlooking a cemetery and I was earning barely enough money to keep body and soul together. She had read a book of mine and had written to me about it. I answered, thanking her, and presently I received from her another letter saying she was passing through Paris and would like to have a chat with me; but her time was limited and the only free moment she had was on the following Thursday; she was spending the morning at the Luxembourg and would I give her a little luncheon at Foyot's afterwards? Foyot's is a restaurant at which the French senators eat and it was so far beyond my means that I had never even thought of going there. But I was flattered and I was too young to have learned to say no to a woman. (Few men, I may add, learn this until they are too old to make it of any consequence to a woman what they say.) I had eighty francs (gold francs) to last me the rest of the month and a modest luncheon should not cost more than fifteen. If I cut out coffee for the next two weeks I could manage well enough. I answered that I would meet my friend—by correspon¬dence—at Foyot's on Thursday at half-past twelve. She was not so young as I expected and in appearance imposing rather than attractive. She was in fact a woman of forty (a charming age, but not one that excites a sudden and devastating passion at first sight), and she gave me the impression of having more teeth, white and large and even, than were necessary for any practical purpose. She was ' talkative, but since she seemed inclined to talk about me I was prepared to be an attentive listener. I was startled when the bill of fare was brought, for the prices were a great deal higher than I had anticipated. But she reassured me. "I never eat anything for luncheon", she said. "Oh, don't say that!" I answered generously. "I never eat more than one thing. I think people eat far too much nowadays. A little fish, perhaps. I wonder if they have any salmon." Well, it was early in the year for salmon and it was not ' on the bill of fare, but I asked the waiter if there was, any. Yes, a beautiful salmon had just come in, it was the first they had had. I ordered it for my guest. The waiter asked her if she would have something while it was being cooked. "No", she answered, "I never eat more than one thing. Unless you had a little caviare. I never mind caviare." My heart sank a little. I knew I could not afford caviare, but I could not very well tell her that. I told the waiter by all means to bring caviare. For myself I chose the cheapest dish on the menu and that was a mutton chop. "I think you're unwise to eat meat," she said. "I don't know how you can expect to work after eating heavy things like chops. I don't believe in overloading my stomach." Then came the question of drink. "I never drink anything for luncheon," she said. "Neither do I," I answered promptly. "Except white wine," she proceeded as though I had not spoken. "These French white wines are so light. They're wonderful for the digestion." "What would you like?" I asked, hospitable still, but not exactly effusive. She gave me a bright and amicable flash of her white teeth. "My doctor won't let me drink anything but cham¬pagne." I fancy I turned a trifle pale. I ordered half a bottle. I mentioned casually that my doctor had absolutely forbid¬den me to drink champagne. "What are you going to drink, then?" ' "Water." She ate the...

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The story begins with a funny anecdote, stating that "If a woman once made up her mind to marry a man, nothing but instant flight could save him." Faulkner describes marriage as "the inevitable loom menacingly before" men or "danger" that urges men to perform an "immediate action". This suggests his negative attitudes towards marriage and, more importantly, expresses the difference of men and women in love. Men are not marrying creatures while women usually expect to lead a love affair to marriage.
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...of taking an friendout to lunch can result in important situations about oneself not experienced in other events. This comes to the forefront in Somerset W. Maugham's anecdotal short story "The Luncheon." The young protagonist, a writer, learns he should not be too generous for fear of being taken advantage of after feeling humiliated and angry because he took a pretentious woman out to lunch. The elements of structure, vivid imagery, symbols and style help to develop the acquaintance's personality and the protagonist's feelings from excitement to anger while also delineating to which extent the protagonist's perception of things has changed for his own good.
Structure is important to the evolution of the protagonist's personal feelings. Initially, the protagonists feels flattered and excited that he has been asked by an older woman to take her out to lunch in one of the fanciest and most expensive restaurants in Paris. Although his financial situation worries him, he wants to please his acquaintance. However, when she begins to order many expensive items, he first worries about how he will pay the bill. Then, he feels humiliated for being used to satisfy her expensive food tastes only. Next, her insensitive discourse angers him: "I see that you're in the habit of eating a heavy luncheon. [the protagonist ate only a mutton chop]. I'm sure it's a mistake. Why don't you follow my example and just eat one thing? I'm sure you'd feel ever so much...

...“The Luncheon” Jeffrey Archer She waved at me across a crowded room at the St. Regis Hotel in New York. I waved back, realizing I knew the face but unable to place it. She squeezed past waiters and guests and had reached me before I had the chance to ask anyone who she was. I racked that section of my brain that is meant to store people, but it transmitted no reply. I realized I would have to resort to the old party trick of carefully worded questions until her answers jogged my memory. “How are you, darling?” she cried, and threw her arms around me, an opening that didn’t help, since we were at a Literary Guild cocktail party, and anyone will throw their arms around you on such occasions, even the directors of the Book-of-the-Month Club. From her accent she was clearly American, and she looked to be approaching forty but thanks to the genius of modern make-up may even have overtaken it. She wore a long white cocktail dress and her blonde hair was done up in one of those buns that looks like a brioche. The overall effect made her appear somewhat like a chess queen. Not that the cottage loaf helped, because she might have had dark hair flowing to her shoulders when we last met. I do wish women would realize that when they change their hairstyle they often achieve exactly what they set out to do: look completely different to any unsuspecting male. “I’m well, thank you,” I said to the white queen. “And you?” I inquired as my opening gambit. “I’m just fine,...

...The text I'm going to analyse represents a short-story, entitled "THE LUNCHEON", written by a prominent, English novelist, short-story writer, playwright and essayist Somerset Maugham.
First of all I'd like to say some words about the title of the text "The Luncheon". The title of the text is rather ironical. If we consult a dictionary, we can find out that the word "luncheon" means a "light snack", but as we can see hereinafter a light snack turns to be an abundant and expensive meal.
The text represents the first person narration. The use of pronouns "I", "my", "myself" is predominant. E.g. "Did I remember?", "My heart sank", "as for myself, I chose the cheapest dish".
The plot of the text is the following: the narrator, a book writer, recognizes a woman with whom he had lunch years ago. He starts remembering the unforgettable evening. He was young, lived in Paris and could barely make ends meet. She had read of his books and wrote a letter to congratulate him on his work. He invited her for lunch and to his horror she chose an expensive restaurant. He had only eighty francs to last him the rest of the month. She ordered one expensive dish after another and when the bill came he paid and was left with no money at all. However, in the end, the narrator feels that he has finally had his revenge when he sees that the lady now put a lot of weight.
Maugham offers the reader a description sustained by dialogues which has a source...

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So Hee Ko
AEAH 4812-001: Modernism and the Visual Arts, 1890-1945
October 1, 2012
Formal Interpretation Paper on Edouard Manet’s Luncheon on the Grass
Originally titled as Le Bain, means the bath; Luncheon on the Grass was exhibited at the Salon de Refuses in 1863. It is painted with oil on a large canvas by Édouard Manet created in between 1862 and 1863. The painting represents the contrast between a female nude with fully clothed men in a rural setting. By that time, normally woman in paintings didn’t look at viewers straight, especially with nudes. Traditionally, nude models mostly looked away from the view. But however, Manet’s naked female model straightly stares at the viewer. This was shocking, but also challenging at the same time. The Luncheon on the Grass, received a great attention by causing public scandal with nude female and painting was success through setting, color, technique, composition and light.
Luncheon on the Grass brought in much argument at its reveal. From this painting, the viewer is provoked by a naked female directly looking at the audience. By this time, this naked woman was obviously politically improper and especially, woman looking at the viewer as unashamed was totally unbelievable and offensive in a male-controlled, conquered society. This was the main reasons why it was forbidden and got teased from the public. Not only because picture of the naked...

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A Small, Good Thing
1. The protagonist in this story was Ann Weiss in my opinion. The way she interacted with others and expressed her feelings with everyone she came in contact makes me see her as the protagonist. Having the ability to express her true feelings and let the readers know how she is thinking makes this choice very easy.
2. Ann communicated with several people in this story starting with the Baker. Talking with the young man Franklin parents is another example of her exchanging words with others. Scotty Doctors, Her Husband was subject to lots of her communication. Ann had no problems communicating with others, but she still felt a little uneasy going into deep conversations. Being timid and pessimistic was her character at the beginning of knowing a person, but once she becomes comfortable, only a pair of ear plugs will do.
3. This story begins with Ann Weiss going to the Bakery one morning to purchase a cake for her soon to eight year old son. Ironically, this story also ends in the same exact place where it began. The analysis to story as it relates to A Hero’s Journey is that her joy, sadness, and comfort could all be found in one common element. Conversation and bread had proven to be a staple in more ways than one. The Call=to the death of their son. The Guide=Howard, Ann’s Husband. The Road of Trials= The death of Scotty. The Boon=Having and showing...

...hardly think I would have recognized her. She addressed me brightly.
“Well, its many years since we first met. How time does fly! We’re none of us getting any younger. Do you remember the first time I saw you? You asked me to luncheon.” Did I remember?
It was twenty years ago and I was living in Paris. I had a tiny apartment in the Latin Quarter overlooking a cemetery and I was earning barely enough money to keep body and soul together. She had read a book of mine and had written to me about it. I answered, thanking her, and presently I received from her another letter saying she was passing through Paris and would like to have a chat withme; but her time was limited and the only free moment she had was on the following Thursday; she was spending the morning at the Luxembourg and would I give her a little luncheon at Foyot’s afterwards? Foyot’s is a restaurant at which the French senators eat and it was so far beyond my means that I had never even thought of going there. But I was flattered and I was too young to have learned to say no to a woman. (Few men, I may add, learn this until theyare too old to make it of any consequence to a woman what they say.) I had eighty francs (gold francs) to last me the rest of the month and a modest luncheon should not cost more than fifteen. If I cut out coffee for the next twoweeks I could manage well enough.
I answered that I would meet my friend—by correspondence—at Foyot’s on...

...white and large and even, than were necessary for any practical purpose. She was talkative, but since she seemed inclined to talk about me I was prepared to be an attentive listener".
Not only her appearance but also her dialogues express that she is an extremely fat, food-loving and ravenous woman who does not even think a bit about the costs the speaker would have to pay for the lunch. She has a very good appetite, and gobbles a lot of money also. The most interesting part is the verbal irony hidden in the lines she utters to the speaker, like she does not eat too much etc.
The woman's tone never changes while she cheats the host and orders the most expensive dishes, and the repetition of same phrases proves it I never eat anything for luncheon", and "I never eat more than one thing". And that is the key sentence of the text. The woman's insistence in saying that she does not eat anything for lunch is in the stressed mark of irony, for she ate like a heroine. She ordered one expensive dish after another.
So we can make a conclusion that the woman is smart, experienced, selfish, cold, without any feeling except to fulfill her desires, and hardly bothered about the expense....